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^JHountatneec Series. $o. 2. 


Lost on the Mountain. 


BY 


WILLIS BOYD ALLEN, 

AUTHOR OF “CHRISTMAS AT SURF POINT,” “PINE CONES,” 
“ SILVER RAGS,” “ THE NORTHERN CROSS,” ETC. 



BOSTON AND CHICAGO: 

Congregational &untiags<Scf)ool anti ^ubltsljtng .Societg. 





£81 


COPYRIGHT, 1887 , BY 

CONGREGATIONAL SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND PUBLISHING SOCIETY. 



Electrotyped and Printed by 
Stanley Sf Usher, 77 / Devonshire Street , Boston. 


TO 

FLORENCE. 






CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I. Banking the House 
II. King and Whiteface . 
III. Lost. 


IV. 


The Ninety and Nine 








LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 


CHAPTER I. 

BANKING THE HOUSE. 

In the first volume of this 
series you have read about Robert 
Alden and his wife Polly: how 
they took their children, King, 
Stella, and Winthrop (or Winnie, 
as the youngest boy was generally 
called), to the mountains, where 
Mr. Alden kept a little store near 
the Fir Mountain railroad station; 
how they found in the woods an 
abandoned logging-hut, in which 
they were able to live, rent-free; 
and how the people who lived 



8 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN 

down by a large saw mill half a 
mile away loved them and called 
them the Mountaineers. 

One morning in early October, 
King, the oldest boy, was feeding 
Whiteface, in her log stable near 
the house. Whiteface, you will 
remember, was the cow which 
they had brought with them from 
their old home in Selborne. 

“ Whiteface,” said King, pulling 
down a good armful of hay from 
the little loft over the cow’s head, 
“ Whiteface, do you know the 
winter is coming on?” 

Whiteface lifted her head and 
looked at King a moment with 
her great mild eyes; then gave a 
long sigh of content and went on 
with her breakfast. 


BANKING THE HOUSE . 


9 

“ Because,” continued King, “it’s 
going to be pretty lonesome for 
you, out here alone. You ’ll 
have to be shut up for months, 
you know.’’ 

Whiteface made no answer, but 
moved her soft, moist lips to and 
fro steadily. 

“She’s just like a snow-bird, 
only bigger,” said Stella, coming 
in at that moment. “ She believes 
she ’ll be taken care of, any way, 
so she does n’t worry about it — 
do you, old Bossy ? ” 

The cow turned her head around 
slightly, and gave the bright-faced 
girl a look which said plainly that 
she quite agreed with her. 

“We must bank up the stable 
as well as the house,” added Mr. 


IO 


LOST OAT THE MOUNTAIN. 


Alden, who was just starting for 
his store. “ The winter will be 
cold and long, I expect/’ 

“ How do you ‘ bank up ’ a 
house, father?” 

“ You ’ll see, my boy. If I can 
get away from the shop early this 
afternoon — perhaps after the three 
o’clock train passes — we’ll begin 
this very day. The snow may 
come any time.” 

The Montreal train was on time 
that afternoon. As it passed, the 
mill-men stopped work for a 
moment and children waved their 
hands. It brought Mr. Alden two 
cases of fruit for his store. As 
soon as these were safely locked 
up, he started for home. The path 
lay almost directly up the side of 




BANKING THE HOUSE. I I 

the mountain, following pretty 
closely the course of a brook. 
King came half-way down to meet 
his father, and they finished the 
trip hand in hand. 

“ I wish you had been at the 
station to-day,” said Mr. Alden. 

“ Why, father? ” 

“ There was a dog on the after¬ 
noon train, traveling as freight. 
There was nobody on board to 
take care of him, but it was under¬ 
stood that he was to go to Fab- 

y yy 

yan s. 

“ I should think he would get 
thirsty! ” 

“That was the funny part of it. 
He had a label tied on his collar, 
with these words plainly printed 
on it: ‘ Please give me a Drink.’” 


12 


LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 


“That was capital!” exclaimed 
King, clapping his hands. 

“ Yes; all the train men took 
excellent care of the dog, and gave 
him all the water he wanted.” 

Talking in this way, they soon 
arrived at the hut. 

“Now,” said Mr. Alden, briskly,, 
after he had kissed Polly and 
the children, “ we must fly around 
and work like bees. There’s 
only an hour of good clear day¬ 
light left.” 

“What shall I do, father?” 
asked Stella, her eyes shining like 
the stars she was named for. 

“ Take Winnie a few steps into 
the woods and gather all the moss 
you can. Your mother will give 
you two large bags that the coffee 



In the Freight Car 










BANKING THE HOUSE. I 3 

came in for the store. Those will 
do nicely for the moss.” 

“ How much shall you want, 
father? ” 

“ As much as you can bring. 
Oh, twenty bags full.” 

“ Shall I go too ? ” asked King, 
who had run into the house for the 
bags. 

“ No; I shall want you to help 

y y 

me. 

With these words he led the 
way farther into the forest, until 
he reached a growth of small, 
straight spruce-trees. The larger 
timber had been cut off and sold 
by the loggers who had built and 
occupied their house several years 
before. 

“ Now, King, you drag out the 


1 4 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN,. 

poles as fast as I cut them down. 
Look out for them when they 
fall! ” 

Down they came, one after the 
other. Mr. Alden cut them in 
such a manner that they fell in 
a direction away from the house. 

“What is that for?” inquired 
the boy. 

“ So you can drag them home 
more easily. I shall lop off most 
of the limbs, but if one of them 
happened to be left, and stuck out 
a little, it would catch in all the 
other underbrush, unless you car¬ 
ried the tree butt-end first.” 

“ I see,” said King, as he started 
off with his first load. “ It would 
be like stroking a cat the wrong 

i ” 

way ! 


BANKING THE HOUSE. 


15 


It was great fun pulling the 
light, sweet-smelling poles to the 
heap near the house. The shouts 
and laughter of Stella and Winnie 
could be heard close by, as they 
emptied their bag-fuls of soft 
green moss beside the spruce 
trees. A column of blue smoke, 
curling up from the chimney, told 
that their mother was preparing 
a good supper for the workers. 

Winnie helped wherever he 
could, but his eight-year-old 
strength could not do very much. 
Mr. Alden smiled to see the little 
fellow tug one end of a pole into 
place, or throw his small armful 
of moss on the pile; as God must 
smile, I think, when we try to do 
very hard things for Him: and the 


I 6 LOST OAT THE MOUNTAIN. 

father was glad, for the earnest¬ 
ness and love that made the boy 
do his best; as God must be glad 
whenever a boy or girl lovingly 
does what Jesus told us to do. 

All too soon the darkness came 
down, and they were obliged to 
stop work for that day. After Mrs. 
Alden’s nice supper, they gathered 
around the great, open fire-place 
as usual, to talk, tell stories, or 
read aloud before bed-time. 

“ How was business in the store 
to-day, Robert?” asked Mrs. 
Alden, rocking to and fro with 
Winnie in her lap. 

“ Pretty good for this time of 
year. I took thirteen dollars and 
a half. Some of the Slabtown 
people were in and bought tea 


BANKING THE HOUSE . I J 

and coffee. No matter how poor 
they are, the women all want tea.” 

“ Do the men drink it too ? ” 

“Yes. They say that when they 
are at work in the woods, it is 
a great deal better than any thing 
stronger—any liquor, I mean. 
They carry a handful of tea in their 
pockets, and make it in camp.” 

“ Did you ever camp out ? ” asked 
King. 

“Yes, indeed; many a time, 
when I was younger. I remember 
one night when we were camping 
on the shores of Lake Umbagog. 
We had only a small shelter, just 
high enough to sit up straight in. 
It was built of fir-boughs and was 
entirely open in front.” 

“ I should think it must have 
been very cold,” said Stella. 



I 8 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

“ It faced the south, and then 
we generally kept a good fire 
going, while we were in camp. 
On this particular night there 
came up a heavy thunder shower.” 

“ Oh, were n’t you dreadfully 
afraid, sir ? ” 

“ Afraid ? No, indeed. It was 
my Father s thunder and lightning, 
and I was in his woods. I knew 
he could take care of me there 
just as well as if I were in a snug 
house.” 

“ Who was with you, Robert ? ” 

“ Only one man, a tall, broad- 
shouldered Norwegian guide. 
Well, the sky grew blacker and 
blacker, and pretty soon the thun¬ 
der began to growl, off among the 
mountains. The wind died away 


BANKING THE HOUSE . I 9 

and then rose again with a rush. 
And the lightning! The sky 
seemed fairly blazing with it. 
Then the rain came down in tor¬ 
rents. I never in my life heard - 
such an uproar in the woods — 
thunder, wind, and rain all sound¬ 
ing together. The lightning struck 
a huge tree near our camp and 
shivered it into splinters. After a 
while the force of the storm had 
spent itself, but the rain continued 
to fall as hard as ever.” 

“ Did you keep dry, you and the 
guide ? ” 

“Well, about half-dry. We 
laid a rubber blanket over our 
roof of boughs, and by curling up 
our feet, kept pretty well within 
the shelter. It was not long before 



20 


LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 


we fell asleep. When we awoke, 
it was midnight. It had cleared 
off, and the stars were shining. 
But meanwhile we had uncurled, 
in our sleep, and were soaking wet 
from our knees down. The wind 
was blowing from the north. Oh, 
how cold it was ! We fumbled 
round, to make a fire, but every 
thing was wet through, like our¬ 
selves. At last I remembered 
some pieces of birch-bark which 
we had tucked under us when the 
storm came on. These were still 
dry. We struck a match with 
shaking fingers, the bark sputtered 
and blazed, and soon we had a 
fire that would have done your 
heart good, as it did ours. Now, 
what reminded me of that story? 


BANKING THE HOUSE. 


21 


Oh, I know ; the tea. We put a 
heaping handful in the quart can 
which served for our kettle, and in 
ten minutes it was boiling. We 
had no milk or sugar, but the tea 
was hot, and I never tasted any 
so good before or since.” 

“ I should n’t think you would 
have slept much the rest of the 
night,” laughed Mrs. Alden. 

“Ah, Polly, that’s the fun of 
living in the woods. We slept 
like tops. Now, chickens, it’s 
time for bed. A short chapter 
about mountains, and then off you 

> y 

go- 

The old leather-covered Book 
was taken from its shelf, the beau¬ 
tiful One Hundred and Twenty- 
fifth Psalm read, a prayer offered 


22 


LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 


by Mr. Alden, asking for rest and 
sleep and good dreams, that 
should fit them all to help to make 
the world better on the morrow, 
and with a merry “ Good-night! ” 
six little feet pattered and stamped 
up the stairs to the loft where the 
bed-rooms were divided off for the 
children. 


CHAPTER II. 


KING AND WHITEFACE. 

It was several days before the 
Mountaineers had a chance to 
finish banking their house and 
stable. The children, meanwhile, 
increased the supply of moss until 
Mr. Alden said there was plenty 
for both buildings. He himself 
managed to find time to cut some 
stout stakes and a few larger 
trees which King was not strong 
enough to carry. One bright 
afternoon they all set to work once 
more. The stakes were driven 
into the ground about two feet 
from the four walls of the house, 


24 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

and the tree-poles were piled up 
against them, the largest at the 
bottom. Then the space between 
the poles and the house was filled 
with moss, packed solid, until 
there was a bank of it about two 
feet deep entirely around the 
house, and kept in place by the 
poles and stakes. 

Old Whiteface was allowed to 
stray about, now that the scanty 
crops were gathered. She watched 
the progress of the moss-bank with 
great interest, especially when they 
began to build it around her own 
shelter. 

“ I really believe/’ exclaimed 
King, “ that she’s afraid of it. 
What a foolish old cow!” 

Whiteface was gazing intently 





Whiteface’s Younger Days. 


















KING AND WHITEFA CE. 2 5 

at the moss, and tossed her head 
two or three times in a puzzled 
way. 

When all was finished, it was 
milking-time, and the cow was 
invited into the shed. She stepped 
in very slowly, looking from side 
to side, as if she did not at all like 
the appearance of things. All 
animals and birds are timid about 
being fenced in in any way. One of 
the best kinds of scarecrows, for 
instance, is a simple piece of twine 
stretched around the corn-field. 
The crows think it is a sort of 
snare, and rarely venture within it. 

Perhaps old Whiteface had the 
same idea about the new bank 
around the shed; for she continued 
to fidget and step about nervously, 


26 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

so that Stella had hard work to 
milk her. 

The next morning was cloudy; 
so dark, indeed, that Mr. Alden, 
who had special business at the 
next station beyond Fir Mountain, 
and had to leave the house very 
early, was obliged to take a lantern 
in his hand, to see the way down 
the steep path to the store. It 
was nearly an hour later when 
King went out to feed and milk 
the cow. A moment afterward he 
came rushing back into the house. 

“ She s gone ! ” he gasped. 

“ Gone ! Who 's gone ? ” cried 
Mrs. Alden and Stella at once, 
while Winnie began to look fright¬ 
ened, over his bread and milk. 

“ Whiteface. I believe — I’m 



KING AND WH/TEFACE. 

afraid”— here King hung his 
head and the tears came into his 
eyes. 

“ Afraid of what ? ” 

“ That it*s my own fault. Last 
night I did n’t fasten the stable 
door. We were so busy that I 
forgot it. And I did n’t remember 
it till I had gone to bed.” 

Mrs. Alden looked grave. 

“ Do you think she has run 
away ? ” 

“ Yes, mother. The door is wide 
open, and I can see her tracks lead¬ 
ing up the path.” 

“ I wish your father was here ! ” 
said Mrs. Alden, anxiously. “ He 
isn’t coming back till to-morrow 
morning, and it looks like snow. 
I am afraid the cow will freeze, or 



28 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

wander off on the mountain and 
die.” 

“ I ’ll tell you what, mother,” 
exclaimed King. “ I’ve had break¬ 
fast, and I know just where she 
started off. I believe I can find 
her in half an hour. Just let me 
have something in my pockets, in 
case I should have to be away a 
little longer, and I ’ll hunt her up, 
see if I don’t! ” 

“ She can't have gone very far,” 
put in Stella. “ I'd go with you 
myself, King, only I ought to stay 
with mother and Winnie.” 

At first Mrs. Alden did not want 
to let her boy go; but he pleaded 
so hard to be allowed to make up 
for his carelessness of the night 
before, that at last she consented. 


KING AND WHITEFACE. 2 C) 

“ Be sure to keep in the path, 
dear,” she said, as she filled his 
pockets and then kissed him good- 
by. 

“ It ’s so plain I can’t miss it, 
mother. Good-by! You’ll see 
me leading the silly old cow back 
to her stable before dinner. Good- 
by ! ” 

“ Good-by! ” 

“ Good-by ! ” echoed Winthrop, 
waving his little hand to his 
brother, who paused a moment at 
a turn of the path, just above. 
Then he went out of sight in the 
forest. 

During the next hour or two 
the children were very busy. 
Stella had some plans for Christ¬ 
mas, which I must tell you about 


30 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

in a later volume of the Moun¬ 
taineer Series. She had just 
begun to gather bits of moss and 
twigs and fir cones, to make gifts 
for the poor mill children, who 
were to be invited to the Christ¬ 
mas party on the mountain. 
Winnie helped her very nicely in 
this. He brought cones to his 
sister, and then held them in place 
while she glued them upon tiny 
frames and brackets. The gifts 
were very pretty indeed. They 
looked, Winnie said, almost as if 
they grew on the trees. 

“ How nice it would be, Stella/' 
he added, “if there was a frame- 
tree, so we could pick presents off, 
all made! ” 

“ Not half so nice as it is now," 


KING AND WH/TEFACE. 3 I 

said Stella, cheerily. “ Because 
then we should n’t have the fun of 
making them.” 

Winnie was silent for a moment, 
watching the girl’s nimble fingers. 
Then he asked, in a puzzled way: 
‘ Why don’t the Lord give us 
things all made, Stella? Couldn’t 
he make apples and potatoes and 
houses all finished up, right off?” 

“Yes, dear. But if we didn’t 
have to work a little bit ourselves, 
I should be very sorry, for my 
part.” 

“ Why?” 

“Well, in the first place, I think 
it is very loving of God to let us 
help make the things — working 
with him — when he could make 
them all at once if he wanted to. 




32 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

And then, if we didn’t do it, we 
should be a miserable kind of 
folks; more like dolls than real 
boys and girls.” 

“ What are cones good for, 
Stella? — besides frames, I mean.” 

“Why, they’re just seed-boxes, 
Winnie. Every one of those little 
scales has a seed tucked into the 
bottom of it.” 

“ What for? ” Winnie did love 
to ask questions ! 

“To keep them safe and dry till 
the wind carries them — the seeds, 
I mean — to a good place to grow. 
That’s what makes squirrels nibble 
the cones so: just to get at the 
seeds, which they are very fond of 
eating.” 

In pleasant work and talk of this 




KING AND WHITEFA CE. 33 

kind the hours swiftly passed, and 
the children could hardly believe 
their ears when their mother called 
them to dinner. 

“ Where ’s King ? ” they both 
asked in a breath. 

“He hasn’t come home yet,” 
said Mrs. Alden, quietly. “ I sup¬ 
pose old Whiteface walks very 
slowly, and the path is steep in 
places.” 

She was really beginning to be 
worried about the boy, but she 
said nothing of this to Stella or 
Winnie. 

After dinner two or three of the 
mill children came to take their 
lessons, as usual. Every few min¬ 
utes Mrs. Alden went to the door, 
but no King or Whiteface was in 
sight. 


34 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

The little strangers returned to 
Slabtown. Stella took her seat by 
the window and read aloud to 
Winnie from a picture-book she 
had brought from Selborne. It 
was about curious stories of cats 
and dogs. 

By four o’clock it was nearly 
dark on the mountain. 

Mrs. Alden was going to and 
fro in the room, preparing for 
supper, when suddenly the little 
boy uttered a cry of delight. 

“ Look, Stella! ” he shouted, 
springing to the window. “ It’s 
snowing! It’s snowing! What 
splendid times we shall have! ” 

Sure enough, the air was full of 
tiny flakes, which could just be 
seen in the gathering darkness. 


KING AND WHITEFACE. 35 

To Winnie’s great surprise, his 
mother buried her face in her 
hands and began to sob as he had 
never seen her before. 

“ Why, mother, mother, what is 
it? What is the matter?” 

Mrs. Alden tried to control her¬ 
self as she put her arm around her 
little son and held him tightly to 
her. 

As she did not answer Winthrop, 
his sister now came forward, and 
knelt beside her mother’s chair. 

“Are you afraid — about King?” 
she asked in a whisper. 

The poor mother nodded but 
could not speak. She had been 
worried all day, and she was sure 
she ought to have aroused the 
people at the depot or the mill, to 



36 LOST OAT THE MOUNTAIN. 

hunt for King. Now it was too 
dark for any one to venture down 
the steep path, and her husband 
would not return until the next 
day. Meanwhile, King, her brave 
boy, whom she loved better than 
her own life, was lost, yes, lost on 
the mountain — perhaps freezing 
to death that very moment in 
some bleak crevice among the high 
ledges where the terrible wind was 
sweeping down from the north, 
ice-cold and loaded with snow. 

“ Mother,” said Stella, with 
quivering lips, “we can’t go our¬ 
selves, but can’t we pray a little? 
Perhaps God will go instead.” 

And in the little log-cabin, with 
the storm roaring through the 
lonely forest about them, the three 



KING AND WHITEFACE. 37 

knelt together and asked their 
Father to be with the lost boy in 
the tempest, the cold, and the 
black night. 


CHAPTER III. 


LOST. 

When King turned and waved 
good-by to his mother, from the 
bend in the path, and started 
upward once more, he felt his 
heart growing lighter every mo¬ 
ment. In the first place, he was 
glad, like all healthy, hearty boys, 
to have a little adventure, all by 
himself, on the mountain. He 
felt older than ever before—quite 
a man, indeed — as he trudged 
along the rough trail. Secondly, 
he was comforted by the thought 
that, although the cow had been 
lost through his own fault, he was 


38 



LOST. 


39 

now doing his very best to find 
her again. When we have done 
wrong and are really sorry for it, 
it always gives us great satisfac¬ 
tion and pleasure to undo, as far 
as we can, the mischief. 

“ I ’ll get up early for the next 
month,” said King to himself, “ to 
make up for being so careless. 
I ’ll get up and start the kitchen 
fire and milk Whiteface before 
mother is awake. I’d just like to 
know where she is this minute! ” 
He was thinking of the cow. 

“ Co’! Co’! Co’ boss ! ” he 
called two or three times, stop¬ 
ping between to listen. But no 
answering Moo! came. 

The path lay through the thick¬ 
est part of the forest, for King had 


40 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

now left the cleared spots where 
the lumbermen had once worked. 
It was a pretty straight course up¬ 
hill, following the bed of the 
brook, which he could always hear 
bubbling and laughing not far 
away. Now and then a smaller 
stream crossed the path, and then 
the boy would stop and drink, 
using the little tin dipper which 
he always carried on his belt when 
he walked in the woods. 

It was very still; except the rush 
of the brook, there was scarcely a 
sound in the air; now and then a 
squirrel chattered overhead, or 
sprung away lightly through the 
evergreen boughs. 

The cow's tracks were plain 
enough, so far. She must have 


LOST. 


41 

started early in the night, for King 
had already walked over a mile, 
and he could see where she had 
fed on raspberry leaves and the 
short, bright green grass that grew 
in tufts along the path. 

It was now nearly noon, but he 
could not tell about time very well, 
as the sun had disappeared in a 
heavy bank of cloud. King began 
to feel hungry and a little bit dis¬ 
couraged and nervous. He had 
never been so far up the mountain 
before, even with his father; and 
now he was all alone. 

“ I wish,” said he, aloud, “ I had 
brought more doughnuts.” 

His mother, you remember, had 
filled his pockets, just before he 
started. He had four good-sized 
ones left and two apples. 



42 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

“ I guess I ’ll save these,” he 
went on, still talking aloud to 
keep up his courage, “ till I find 
Whiteface; then I can have some 
milk with them.” 

He trudged ahead, and soon 
found he could not talk and walk 
at the same time, for he needed all 
his breath for the climb. He was 
now so high that the trees, he 
noticed, were shorter and all their 
branches twisted in one direction, 
where the terrible northerly storms 
of winter had blown and beat 
upon them year after year. 

It grew colder. Little icy blasts 
began to rustle down from the high 
peaks beyond. He could see only 
a little way ahead, the trees were 
so thickly crowded together. He 


LOST. 


43 

shivered, but thought of Winnie 
crying for milk, and kept bravely 
on. 

“ Co’ boss ! Co’ boss ! ” he called, 
with all his might. 

Her tracks were in the path, but 
not a sound could he hear. 

Suddenly he stopped and turned 
pale. A curious thing was coming 
towards him in the path. It looked 
like a puff of white smoke, as if a 
cannon had been fired, without 
making any sound. Silently it 
rolled along the narrow passage 
between the trees, until it reached 
him. In an instant his jacket was 
whitened with snow, and his ears 
pinched with a biting wind. Al¬ 
most as suddenly it was gone, and 
the air was clear again. 


44 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

King knew well enough what 
had made him so cold and snowy; 
what this thing was, which he 
could hardly realize was not a 
dream until he saw the snow on 
the limbs of the trees and the dead 
leaves about him. It was a small 
fragment of frost-cloud , such as 
are driven to and fro in the ravines 
and along the desolate slopes of 
the higher mountain-peaks. 

He knew how dangerous they 
were, for his father had told him 
of travelers who had been over¬ 
taken by these terrible clouds, 
had lost their way, and frozen to 
death before help could come. 
Ought he to go on ? There was 
danger—but he did want to find 
the cow, and he was sure she must 



LOST. 


45 

be near. He would not give up 
now, almost at the end of his jour¬ 
ney. 

Buttoning his little jacket tightly 
around his throat, King struggled 
ahead, facing a strong, cold wind 
which blew steadily down upon 
him. He felt something soft and 
light strike against his face. A 
glance at his sleeve showed what 
it was — a snow-flake with six 
beautifully crystalled points. 

Another and another. Faster 
they came, and still faster, seeming 
never to fall at all, but to be driven 
straight on by the furious wind. 
The ground was soon white, how¬ 
ever, and a new trouble arose; the 
cow’s tracks could no longer be 


seen. 



46 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN,\ 

King saw that it would not be 
wise to hunt any more — at least, 
after he had turned that one corner, 
just ahead. When he reached it, he 
stopped, in surprise and awe at the 
wonderful view spread out before 
him. He was fairly above the “tree¬ 
line ” as it is called; that is, he was 
on the high slopes of the mountain 
where it was so cold and stormy 
throughout the year that no tree 
ever grew there. The few strag¬ 
gling clumps he had just left 
behind were scarcely higher than 
his head. Before him, stretching 
away for miles in every direction, 
was a gray waste of rock, broken 
and tumbled about in desolate con¬ 
fusion. On both sides, there were 
steep ravines, reaching down to 



LOST. 


47 

the valleys below; in front, the 
ridge rose, until it was lost in roll¬ 
ing cloud and white, tossing snow. 
The wind blew so that he could 
hardly keep his feet, and swept 
past him with a dull roar that 
made his heart sink with dread. 

“ I guess I ’ll go back now,” he 
said to himself, taking one last look 
over the wild scene, and then — 
“why, there ’s Whiteface herself!” 
he cried out joyously, as his eye 
fell upon a dark object with a 
white front, on the mountain-side 
a short distance beyond. 

He felt his weariness leave him 
for a moment, as he sprang along 
the path, trying to call to the cow. 
The wind blew so hard that he 
could make no sound loud enough 



48 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN 

for her to hear; the dark object 
remained motionless. It was 
farther off than he thought, and he 
was nearly half an hour in reaching 
it. What was his bitter disappoint¬ 
ment to find that what he had taken 
for Whiteface was only a large 
rock, with a snow drift in one of 
its crannies. Stopping suddenly 
at the sight, he felt one of his feet 
slip, and a sharp twinge shoot 
through his ankle. He sank to 
the ground, crying with pain and 
fright. The clouds swept down, 
and the snow thickened in the 
air around him. Lost, lost on the 
mountain! 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE NINETY AND NINE. 

As King half sank, half fell 
down upon the rocks in his de¬ 
spair, he could not help noticing 
that the storm seemed suddenly 
much lighter. Indeed, he hardly 
felt the wind at all, though 
he could hear its loud roar, like 
the beating of the sea upon a 
rocky shore. The snow, too, did 
not reach him, but swept up into a 
little drift, shaped like part of a 
circle around him. This was very 
comfortable, and he soon began to 
feel more hopeful, and to look 
about him. 


49 


50 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

“Ah,” said he, “I see what keeps 
off the wind. It’s this big stone.” 

He remembered hearing his 
father read somewhere in the 
Bible, about the “ shadow of a 
great rock in a weary land.” 

“That’s what this is,” he said 
to himself. “ Only it is n’t exactly 
a shadow. It’s just a quiet place; 
but that’s better.” 

King was right. A calm is the 
shadow of a storm. 

As the boy remembered the 
verse, he felt very much comforted 
and cheered. 

“ God is up here, in the snow,” he 
thought, “so I needn’t be afraid. 
He sent me to this rock, so that I 
could get rested and find a good 
place to eat my dinner in.” 


THE NINETY AND NINE . 5 I 

For dinner he ate one apple and 
a doughnut. He was thirsty after¬ 
ward, and sucked bits of ice and 
snow, but these did not help him 
much. Oh, how he longed for 
one drink of sweet spring water! 

“ I guess I ’ll start for home,” he 
said to himself. “ It must be two 
or three o’clock, and as many miles 
between here and the house.” 

In fact he was becoming so 
numb with the cold that he knew 
he must be moving, if he did not 
want to freeze. 

Once more he faced the storm. 
The clouds had settled down on 
the mountain, so that he could 
hardly see a rod before him. The 
wind seized him so furiously that 
he had to drop again and again, 


52 LOST OAT THE MOUNTAIN. 

and cling to the rocks. He 
staggered along in this way, 
through the deepening snow, his 
ankle paining him more and more, 
until something large and dark 
filled the air before him. He 
cleared the frost from his eyelashes 
as well as he could, and looked 
eagerly forward. Then he was 
thankful that he had not gone 
further. The dark appearance was 
simply space, the broad, open air, 
instead of the rocks and snow on 
which he had been gazing. He 
had come to the top of a lofty 
precipice, over which a dozen steps 
further would surely have carried 
him. 

We may be pretty sure that 
King thanked his Father once more 


THE NINETY AND NINE. 53 

for His care over him, as he crawled 
back, further and further from this 
new danger. 

He kept on, very cautiously. It 
seemed to him weeks and months 
since he left home that morning. 
H e was so cold and tired that he 
felt that he must lie down and go 
to sleep. But something told him 
that if he did, he would never wake 
again in this world. Thinking one 
little prayer after another—they 
were hardly more, I think, than the 
one word “ Father ! Father ! ” — 
he dragged one foot wearily after 
another, through drifts arid over 
rough, icy rocks. 

And now it grew dark before 
him again. He trembled as he 
thought of the dreadful precipice ; 



54 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

then gave a delighted little sob, 
for here was the forest once 
more. Any thing was better than 
those dreary ridges of bare rock 
where there was no living creature 
but himself. In the woods, among 
these dear, soft fir-trees, he knew, 
there were hosts of tiny furred and 
feathered things, their soft, bright 
eyes looking out contentedly at the 
storm, while they were safely cared 
for by their Father. 

“ He means to take care of me 
to-night! ” thought King. “ He’s 
brought me into his great out-door 
house, where he keeps his spar¬ 
rows, and he ’ll take care of all of 
us together.” 

A few steps further, and King 
ran plump into a large stump, 


THE NINETY AND NINE. 


55 

tripped over a log, and fell toward 
what looked, in the stormy dusk, 
like an immense, snow-covered 
bowlder. As if by magic, the rock 
opened and let him in. 

“ M oo-o-o ! ” 

King could hardly believe his 
eyes and ears. 

“ Whiteface, you old darling ! ” 

“ Moo-o-o-o ! ” again. 

Then two or three long sighs, 
and a comfortable sound of munch¬ 
ing. 

King jumped to his feet and 
looked about him. It was no rock 
at all. He found himself in a sort 
of log shanty, roofed with bark, 
and carpeted with fir-boughs. He 
now dimly remembered hearing 

his father tell about a small shelter 

> 


> 


56 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

that had been long ago built for 
belated travelers on this high and 
lonely mountain-path. Indeed, Mr. 
Alden had once passed a night 
there himself. 

The boy’s first act was to hug 
the cow ; then to kneel down on 
the boughs, which sent up their 
sweet, dried fragrance, and say 
“Our Father” through, from be¬ 
ginning to end. 

“ And now, Whiteface,” said he, 
jumping up briskly, “we’ll see 
what sort of a house we ’re in.” 
There the idea struck him funnily. 
“ What a great clumsy red spar¬ 
row you are! ” 

Whiteface looked at him in 
silence for a moment, with as near 
a smile on her face as a cow could 


THE NINETY AND NINE. 


57 

possibly have; then remarked 
“Um-m-m” softly, and went on 
with her cud. It was evident that 
she was greatly pleased to have 
company, in her lonely stable. 

There was just light enough left 
for King to discover that one side 
of the hut was all fire-place, made of 
broad, flat stones, kept in place by 
clay. He had been about with his 
father enough to understand about 
fire-making, and he had some 
matches in his pocket; with a 
handful of dried boughs for kind¬ 
ling, he started a small blaze, 
which soon grew to a fine large 
one. There were two or three 
armfuls of dry wood stowed away 
in one corner of the hut, for the 
use of any one overtaken there at 
night. 


58 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

Whiteface at first hardly liked 
the fire, not being used to having 
one in her sleeping-room ; but as 
King paid no attention to her 
doubtful looks, she concluded it 
was all right, and yielded the point 
gracefully. 

King now closed the shutter of 
a small square opening, through 
which the snow had been blowing. 
He shoveled out the snow from 
the door-way as well as he could 
with a piece of bark, and closed 
the door, too. The leather hinges 
had long ago broken away, but he 
managed to prop it up firmly in 
its place, so as to keep most of 
the wind out. 

“ Now, old cow,” he said cheerily, 
“ I guess its about milking-time.” 


THE NINETY AND NINE. 


59 

Kneeling down by her side, he 
milked his little dipper full, again 
and again. He was obliged to 
throw most of it away, because he 
had no pail; but Whiteface prom¬ 
ised him some more for breakfast. 

Milking done, he took out 
a couple of doughnuts and an 
apple, and with his dipper of milk 
at hand, sat down before the fire. 
The hut was now very warm and 
comfortable indeed. 

I forgot to say that what White- 
face was munching was some 
straw that had been left in the hut 
for a bed, by somebody who did 
not know how much better fir- 
boughs were. It was not a very 
good supper for her, but King 
knew she would not suffer seriously 
before to-morrow. 


60 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

At length he finished his own 
meal, milked one last dipper full, 
for the night, built up the fire with 
the largest sticks he had, said his 
prayers, patted Whiteface and 
kissed the star on her forehead, 
curled himself up on the boughs, 
and in two minutes .he was fast 
asleep. 

Once or twice he woke up in the 
night, threw more wood on the fire, 
and went to sleep again, feeling 
very contented and happy. All 
through the long hours, the wind 
and storm roared around and 
above the little hut, but no harm 
came to Gods two sparrows 
within. 

King was pretty cold when he 
got up next morning. The first 


THE NINETY AND NINE. 6 1 

thing he did was to build a fire. 
Then he milked the cow and ate 
for his own breakfast the last 
of the scanty provisions he had 
brought. 

On looking out of the window 
opening, he found that the sun 
was shining brightly, and all the 
trees sparkling with the new-fallen 
snow. 

Hardly a breath of wind was 
stirring. A flock of pretty gray 
and white snowbirds fluttered up 
close to the hut, to say good¬ 
morning. 

“ Come, Whiteface,” said King, 
throwing back the door. “We 
must be going. Let’s see if you 
can find the way.” 

The cow walked gravely out, 


62 LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

rubbing - her sleek sides against the 
door-posts and blinking a little at 
the glistening white world. 

Then she started in a straight 
line through the low trees, King 
following. They had not taken 
twenty steps before they were in 
the path. 

“ Hurrah ! ” cried King. “ Now 
for home! ” 

Whiteface started down hill with 
a good will. It was a hard walk, 
and a hungry one ; but with home 
and love ahead, all journeys are 
short. 

“ My darling, my darling ! ” was 
all Mrs. Alden could sob, as she held 
her boy in her arms; for Mr. 
Alden had not yet returned. Stella 
had gone to the mill settlement to 
ask for help. 


THE NINETY AND NINE. 63 

Whiteface was glad to get back 
to her own stable again. By noon 
the whole family were united once 
more, about the dinner table, King 
talking eagerly of his adventures, 
and the rest listening. 

This was by no means the last 
of the exciting things that hap¬ 
pened that winter. If you care to 
spend more time with the Moun¬ 
taineers, you can find them in the 
next volume of this series, called 


“Winnie’s Black Dog.” 






I 

























































